


Mending

by KJGooding



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding
Summary: When Bashir comes back to Cardassia with a charity project in mind, Garak is not ready to be pitied.  But is he ready to be loved?This script was adapted for submission to the Sid City Social Club for a live performance.  I hope you enjoy it!!  And if you want to see it performed, please let the club know!!
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Kudos: 21





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexisaFanST](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisaFanST/gifts).



(Garak is sitting alone in his flat, with a sewing project situated on his lap. He is recounting a memory - a pleasant one, by the look on his face, although his tone always leaves room for contradiction. He calls out to someone offscreen, perhaps in another room behind him within the house.)

GARAK: Kelas, won’t you  _ ever  _ finish unpacking? It’s been nearly a year. A year, already, in this stifling little flat...

(He begins sharing his recollection, now, of times past:)

GARAK: Of course, Doctor Parmak has been here as long as I have. But Julian… mm, I must say, Julian did not join us right away, despite my invitations. It was an evening much like this one - all the days  _ do  _ blur together, with the neverending smoke and dust obscuring the sunlight - and I was sitting on my side of the flat, working on another little project. Something to keep my hands busy, something that would allow my mind to wander. I was trying my hand at a Bajoran style of crochet Kelas liked, and I was waiting for  _ Doctor Bashir _ ,  _ at last,  _ to make one fateful house-call. 

(He turns and gives a momentary glance to the door, ensuring no one is there to interrupt his recollection, as if he is about to reveal something very personal, something  _ truthful _ .)

GARAK CONT’D: Of course I was nervous. I had been waiting  _ weeks _ to hear that  _ dreadful  _ Federation door-chime. I began to give the command for the door to open, before realizing our temporary housing unit had been spared all unnecessary electronic components. I came forward quietly and unlocked the set of latches, then slid the door open -- and welcomed Julian in. 

(Garak begins to reenact the scene itself; Bashir now joins him on screen, to play his part in the memory.)

GARAK: Hello, Doctor. I must apologize for the state of this flat… my unpacking process is quite particular, and I have faced many interruptions. Including - I am satisfied to say -  _ this one _ . 

(Charmed, Bashir smiles.)

BASHIR: At least  _ you’re _ looking well, Mister Garak. That’s my primary concern, right now. 

(Garak - aside to the audience - provides us his feelings on this moment.)

GARAK: It was strange, I thought, the way Julian marched in as if he owned the place. Years could change a person, and a certain construction sponsorship could certainly entitle them, but it reminded me above all else of the way  _ I _ behaved the very first time I approached Julian, over a decade ago. I used to find this same overbearing confidence fascinating,  _ alluring _ , but the thought made me queasy, now. There he was, in the apartment he had built  _ for me  _ through a Federation Aid grant, making himself at home, responding to a call Kelas had made - never mind all the heartfelt letters I had foolishly sent… 

(Bashir returns us to the recollection.)

BASHIR: You seem to be adjusting well. I, um… full confidentiality - I consulted with Doctor Parmak, and they wanted a second opinion on some of your symptoms. I was told you’ve been hallucinating… how long has that been going on for, Mister Garak?

(Garak winces at the formality. After all these years…? No, he won’t have that.)

GARAK: Nearly the entire time I’ve been away from the station,  _ Julian. _

BASHIR: You seem remarkably calm. 

GARAK: Mm. What was that phrase…? I am a creature of habit, even unpleasant ones.

BASHIR: Doctor Parmak seemed more concerned than you do. Do you trust their opinion?

GARAK: Of course. They’ve been indispensable. 

(BASHIR grits his teeth, slicks his tongue around his mouth, looking unsettled before deciding to nod.)

BASHIR: That’s… good. I’m glad they’re here for you… since  _ I _ haven’t been. 

(Garak, knowing  _ exactly _ what Bashir is doing--)

GARAK: I’m not certain what you’re implying, Doctor. 

(Julian wrings his hands together, staring down at them as he does so. He is on the verge of admission.)

BASHIR: I haven’t been a very good friend, lately. 

GARAK: Regardless, I think you are one of my best. 

(Bashir’s resulting laughter is stunted, nervous, pushing and pulling the tension between them. 

BASHIR:  _ Garak _ . Come on, don’t talk about yourself like that.

GARAK: I was talking about  _ you _ . 

BASHIR: Right… I mean, don’t base  _ everything  _ you do on someone else’s approval. You  _ deserve  _ friendship and affection, even if you don’t feel like you’re actively  _ earning  _ it. I am  _ glad  _ you have Doctor Parmak to confide in; I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. 

GARAK: And I did not  _ mean  _ to request a psychological consultation.

(Bashir sighs, knowing he should be prepared for the barbs and repartee, but it’s been a while since he’s seen Garak in person. He shakes his head and chuckles again, acknowledging that Garak has the upper hand.)

BASHIR: Yes, we’ll get to discussing your symptoms. I wanted to see you as a friend, first. 

GARAK: A friend. 

BASHIR: Yes. I want you to feel comfortable with me, before we get into discussing any  _ issues _ . 

GARAK: Ah.

BASHIR: I’ve…

(Bashir rakes his hand back through his hair. He is clearly nervous - but he knows Garak isn’t one to soothe him - we can see in his eyes, he must make the decision to soothe himself. He brings his hands together, twisting and fiddling with them. It helps, a bit.)

BASHIR CONT’D: I’ve watched that distance between us grow over the years. I could try to come up with an excuse - the  _ war _ , in fact, or my augmentation making everyone uncomfortable - but it isn’t as though I grew apart from any of my other  _ friends _ . Not in the same way…

(Garak, aside, recalls this moment from his perspective, for the audience only.)

GARAK: And what way might that have been, I thought…? Julian had always suffered from an overactive imagination. Over the years, I had watched him fall victim to the collapse of  _ many  _ of his overinflated dreams. They got too unrealistic - too heavy at the top - and over time, the repeated disappointments  _ must have _ begun wearing him down. I had known him to be optimistic when we first met - if a bit insistent, caught up in glorifying his own involvement… well, returning to one’s old habits was something Julian was guilty of, as well as I was. I watched him - he was a  _ spectacle _ . 

(Bashir returns us to the recollection by clearing his throat, straightening his shoulders, trying to be altogether more in command of the moment. He is about to fall into the exact habit Garak has just described.)

BASHIR: I wanted to… make sure you were looking after yourself. I thought you would need some help; I  _ know  _ you need some help based on what Doctor Parmak has told me… just sending down blueprints for temporary apartments isn’t enough. What about the water systems, what about the air pollution - I thought to myself, lying awake  _ every night  _ in bed -  _ what about Garak _ … What about  _ my dear friend Elim _ ? Elim won’t look after himself. Elim  _ needs me _ …

(Bashir reaches forward, longingly. Garak is ready to return the gesture, but instead clamps his hand into a fist. Garak, aside, shares the following moment with the audience.)

GARAK: At that point, all wrapped up in his well-intentioned fantasies, Julian took my hand in his. He guided me closer - watched my face carefully to ensure I was not feeling claustrophobic, perhaps. In truth, there was not enough time for me to panic. With his hands moving to caress my cheeks, he led me into a human-style kiss. It was  _ curious _ . There I was, stunned and frozen in place, while  _ Julian  _ tipped his head to the side. His lips… they moved, too. They were soft, warm,  _ relenting _ , smoothing over the parched expanse of mine. I did not know what to do, I did not know what to  _ say _ !

(Garak pauses. The memory brings a smile to his face, and he laughs softly.)

GARAK CONT’D: Well, if Julian had a habit of fantasizing - casting himself as the dashing hero in every story -  _ I  _ had an equally self-destructive habit of denying myself any levity or indulgence whatsoever. My  _ dear doctor  _ had moved his hands down to stroke my forearms - the ultimate expression of trust in Cardassian society - and I simply could not allow myself to enjoy it. 

(This time, Garak clears his throat and returns us to the recollection scene, addressing Julian, sounding perplexed.)

GARAK: I’m sorry…

BASHIR: Don’t be; I’m not.

(Garak shifts aside again.)

GARAK: The resulting silence carried the weight of our long association, hollowing out all the meaningless lies I had told him. This -  _ this  _ \- was as truthful as we had ever been with one another, and I could not comfortably let the moment pass. What was wrong with me? Julian must’ve expected his kind gesture - mutually enjoyable but ultimately unrepeatable - would  _ help me _ , but it did not. Oh, I stared at him, with the same coldness I had last used on poor Doctor Parmak during their interrogation, at the peak of my Obsidian Order career. I  _ stared  _ as Julian leaned against the temporary wall panel of the apartment, coughing, mumbling, unable to fill the silence with another triviality about the weather. It was over. 

(Garak returns his attention to Julian, and the recollection scene.)

GARAK: I must have imagined it. 

(Bashir is surprised.)

BASHIR: Hmm…?

GARAK: A hallucination, plain and simple. It has happened before, Doctor, if you’re really here, listening. One of my most common patterns of hallucination involves  _ you _ . We’re… comfortable together. I  _ know  _ it cannot be reality. 

(Bashir’s mouth drops open, surprised, but also intrigued, not wanting the confession to die just yet. Not at Garak’s hand, anyway. He softens his tone and drops the formalities.)

BASHIR: I’m sorry, Elim. That  _ was real _ , but if you weren’t  _ ready for it _ \-- I’m sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t proper. It’s just that I’ve… I’ve been wanting to do that for  _ years _ , now. I feel like it was inevitable. But I should’ve waited until you were ready, I’m sorry to try and--

(Garak scowls. Ordinarily, one would raise their voice in an argument like this - but not Garak. No, Garak’s gets quieter - shifting into a growl at the slightest provocation.)

GARAK: Is this the only reason you came to Cardassia, Doctor? To win some long-sought prize for yourself? To torment me with your fleeting affections?  _ Please _ !

(Dumbfounded, Bashir stares forward. He presses his hands to his temples, massaging away an oncoming headache, before drawing them back and shaking his head in frustration.)

BASHIR: Believe me, that’s the  _ last  _ way I want to look at it. I came here because I thought you needed help. 

GARAK: Help?! Of all the condescending things you’ve done, Doctor, this is the most profound. 

(Bashir adjusts his tone to match Garak’s - quick tempo, fiery, insistent. He is exasperated.)

BASHIR:  _ I’m sorry I kissed you _ ! If you’d rather pretend it never happened, I would be  _ perfectly fine _ with j--

GARAK: Oh no,  _ my dear _ . We don’t abandon our guilt that easily. You and I are on  _ Cardassia _ . I am suffering  _ enough  _ with the hallucinations - I don’t need to be tortured by  _ two of you _ . Perhaps it is better as just a fantasy.

BASHIR: Elim,  _ please _ . 

(Garak turns aside.)

GARAK: Oh, but he had seen all of this before, he had heard all of this before, from me. It was just like the time he watched over me while I was ready to let myself fade away under the pressure of my Wire. He  _ knew  _ I took poor care of myself, and he hated to see it unfold right before his eyes. And… foolishly, all I could do was lash out at him. At that moment, I began to hate it, too. 

(Bashir moves us to the recollection scene again.)

BASHIR: Elim, please. Let me figure out a course of prescriptions for you. We can manage your pain  _ and  _ the hallucinations. I have a fresh supply of replicators coming to the medical center at 2200,  _ tonight _ . I can put in a transfer request for a counselor, I can--

(Garak holds up one hand to interrupt. Bashir pauses immediately, eager to rekindle their connection in whatever way Garak, this time, directs. 

GARAK:  _ You  _ can do all of those things, Doctor… that is precisely the problem. Let  _ us  _ do them, ourselves. I don’t deserve anything  _ from you _ . 

(Bashir finally has all the confidence he needs, as he looks in the eye of someone in need. Nothing else fuels him in exactly the same way.)

BASHIR: Elim, don’t go through this again. You don’t  _ have to  _ endure these things alone.  _ That  _ is why I’m here -- not to make you feel bad about yourself -- but...  _ because I love you _ . 

(Garak, aside)

GARAK: I wondered… was this the confession I had been gambling for all along? It did not  _ sound  _ unpleasant, at the time. It sounded  _ indulgent _ , but all the force in Julian’s voice did not leave me any margin for insecurity. This was what I needed… that alluring, overbearing young Doctor I had met all those years ago. The one - I must admit -  _ I  _ had fallen in love with. The one who wanted to see me succeed, the one who would care for me even when met with hopeless, repeated refusal. (A thoughtful, musing pause) Only now, neither of us were casting roles in a fantasy. We were casting them in our  _ future _ .

(Garak turns to Julian, again. And his tone softens, as he realizes what is happening.)

GARAK: It really is you… I…  _ Julian _ , I daresay that I love you, too.

(Garak turns aside, smiling and laughing lightly to himself at reliving this memory. He picks up his sewing project, and turns to call to the back room again, where Julian and Kelas are apparently waiting for him to join them.)

GARAK: I’m nearly finished, my  _ dears _ . Our good  _ human  _ doctor needs a respectable Cardassian lab coat before his next house call, wouldn’t you say? Oh, I would. I would say this is some of my finest work yet… all of it perfectly genuine...

(Bashir calls out, as if he is responding from the other room, letting us know Garak is not there alone. This is real.) 

BASHIR: take your time, Elim, dear. We’ll be here for you when you’re ready. I  _ know _ you can’t rush a masterpiece… 

(Garak looks at his project in admiration, and the scene ends.)


End file.
